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gravity found me tonight

Updated on August 14, 2011

There was this blinding light I wanted so badly to get rid of. The lace curtains did nothing much to hide me… conceal the ghastly truth that I have tried to run from for so long.

I have grown tired studying how light behaved and the effect it has on me. Instead of illuminating my most prized features, I find it betraying me, revealing all my flaws and what I had hated as a child.

But those eyes… he looked at me with such honest admiration and longing that I could hardly believe was possible. There, I knew that this man loved me. Not of what he sees, or feels to his touch, not the moment or even the thoughts, but the bare and naked truth of who I am. It was exhilarating. It was a glorious week after glorious week.

We talked of wisdom, we talked of facts. We were so busy thinking about what to think, it was exhausting. The only way we could relax and clear our heads was when we savoured each other.

It was never in a carnal, medieval way, but an utter submission of oneself, surrendering both mind and body to each other. Loving him was like loving myself. Loving myself made me love him more.

Everything seemed perfect, nothing else mattered. I have found the man of my dreams—brilliantly aggressive, scrupulously witty and handsomely arrogant. Our minds would race as we thought of possibilities we have within our reach. Aware of our plain superiority to the rest of the herd, we knew we could be something more than the regular couple.

We eluded mediocrity with a swiftness and subtlety that made us oblivious to our own flaws. He loved me enough to make me feel invincible and fearless. There’s no better way to be loved than this.

But it all ended…

Strange how the pace and struggle as we started our relationship was also the same pace and struggle as we consumed each other til nothing was left. Confusion hovered over us like this dark mist threatening to swallow the sun and its warmth. Everything we thought logical defied what our hearts demanded. We’ve gone to the edge and back, not knowing whether to jump and take that forbidden plunge, or turn back, to the safety of a heart secured, but also a heart deprived.

When the bonds that held us together started falling apart, we saw ourselves slowly walking away from each other, looking into the eyes we thought we knew so well. Just shaking my head in dismay, I pretended that it would all be alright… I would get over him as fast as he’d get over me.

But it was never like that. I dated one guy after another, juggled several comedic relationships at a time, both surprising myself with my hidden skills in deception and honing of my art of being indifferent.

I’ve been offered lucrative options and opportunities and I’d weigh them out of logic and sensibility and not of emotions nor desires. Nothing seemed to come from my heart anymore. All the world meant to me was if it was going to make me rich and comfortable by the time I’m 30. Eventually, I gave in.

What he did, how he handled our slow and painful decline has always remained a mystery. He would often tell me the scarcity of affection he’s capable of giving anyone after I drained him of the ability to bestow it upon any deserving lady-soul. But we knew better than to trust each others words. After all, words got us together, it also tore us apart.

Tearfully, I type this note, because I realize that when I feel unhappy, for any reason possible, I beg to be quiet. And the quiet brings me peace. Peace reminds me of the contentment I once knew. All of which were emotions I came to know when he started loving me.

Do I blame him for not understanding my dreams? Or was it how he wanted to do things slowly and lopsidedly surely? Did he ever really see the sorrowful way I grew up, deprived of affection, material comforts and almost adequate intelligence? I was hungry to make a name for myself. I wanted so badly to earn people’s respect by showing them I can do better than they ever can. I pushed him to do what I thought was good for him. I asked him to hurry on and make dreams to reality. I begged him to feel the urgency that haunted me, as chance and opportunity’s end loomed like a sunset before the darkest of nights.

And that was probably the problem. I kept pushing, asking and begging, forgetting he too, had a life, and had dreams, which could be different and needed more time. All I was seeing was I.

Nothing is more painful than realizing it was all your fault after parading accusing fingers at anyone and everyone in the way. Humiliation isn’t even what makes it unbearable. It’s the self loathing that comes afterthat will drive you to wits end…

But what is left to do, when you’ve started on a path and know this ebbed wisdom does not need to contribute much other than make sure you mimic the choices made by gold diggers. And you just get by with eyes staring blankly at the horizon as if some rescuing eagle would come and save you from this deep abyss you’ve dragged yourself to.

Beyond everything that occurred, I wish he’d remember that I loved him. That in every painful recollection of what has been, I will always desire to have done the right thing.

However, I no longer wish to turn back time. I’m too bloody tired of justifying my actions, understanding my reasons then… it’s all too agonizingly torturous to recall. Because the plain truth was in plain sight—I allowed him to leave.

** yes, it's you. heck, it's always been, always will, be you**



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